


say fuck it, we'll make it

by deducingontheroof



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Emotions, Introspection, M/M, Metaphors, Passion, Reminiscing, Smoking, semi rides a motorcycle and no one can take that headcanon from me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 05:45:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16655344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deducingontheroof/pseuds/deducingontheroof
Summary: “Eita,” Kenjirou murmurs, a warm hand brushing over his shoulder as Kenjirou joins him, leaning against the railing next to him. “It’s late.”“I know,” Eita says softly, glancing over at Kenjirou before returning his gaze to the city sprawling out below them. “It’s beautiful.”





	say fuck it, we'll make it

**Author's Note:**

> in today's news: charlie can't write an introspective fic without attaching too many metaphors to cigarette smoke, surprising exactly no one
> 
> but happy birthday sky!!!!!! this is late bc i was busy mooding, but im finally happy with it and!!! i love you!!! and i hope you like this and that it does ur boys justice <3

Eita sighs, somewhere between longing and bliss, as he stares out into the night. Despite the chill in the air, the city is alive with glowing lights and idle noises, and the highway leading out of town is busy as ever, as if it was the sun hanging low in the sky instead of the moon.

 

Everything’s moving, changing, fluid, and he feels as if it’s leaving him behind. He feels stagnant, despite his contentment with the life he’s built for himself.

 

He sighs again, one of longing for certain this time, and takes a long drag off his cigarette. The smoke curls through the air, drifting up towards the stars in the way Eita desperately wishes he could. He wishes he could abandon his physical form and fly, float, rise towards the infinite sky.

 

He hears the door slide open behind him, feels the heat from inside briefly wash over his cold skin, but can’t bring himself to look away from the stars and the night and the _life_.

 

“Eita,” Kenjirou murmurs, a warm hand brushing over his shoulder as Kenjirou joins him, leaning against the railing next to him. “It’s late.”

 

“I know,” Eita says softly, glancing over at Kenjirou before returning his gaze to the city sprawling out below them. “It’s beautiful.”

 

Kenjirou sighs. “What are you doing out here? You’re freezing.”

 

“Thinking.” Eita shrugs idly, taking another drag.

 

“That’s always dangerous,” Kenjirou deadpans, his tone fond and light-hearted, a welcome contrast to how he’d been in high school. “Seriously, Eita, what’s going on? You know you can talk to me.”

 

“You should be asleep,” Eita tells in lieu of a proper response. “You’re working early tomorrow.”

 

“Fucking whatever, Eita. Don’t change the subject,” Kenjirou snaps, but there’s more concern than bite in his words.

 

Eita sighs, knowing that Kenjirou won’t let it go. “It’s stupid.”

 

“Probably,” Kenjirou shrugs, “but if it’s bugging you, it’s important.”

 

“I come out here at night sometimes,” Eita admits, purposefully leaving out the fact that _sometimes_ really meant _practically every night_. “I like to listen to the city, and watch the stars.”

 

“Eita, come on. It’s more than that. It’s fucking cold as ass, and you’re not even wearing a shirt.” Kenjirou nudges him softly with his shoulder. “It’s more than that, isn’t it?”

 

“When did you get so perceptive?”

 

“Learned it from my senpai in high school,” Kenjirou teases, bringing Eita back to hours spent analyzing matches and tapes and data, to barbed words and playful snipes, of fingers barely brushing and fists bumped in triumph.

 

“You’re not leaving this alone until I tell you, are you.” Eita runs a reluctant hand through his hair, blowing another cloud of smoke out into the night and watching it wisp and stream through the still air.

 

“Course not. You know how stubborn I am.” Kenjirou nudges him again. “After all, you’re the one who taught me.”

 

Eita’s still watching the curls of smoke, so he doesn’t catch himself before he blurts, “Do you ever feel like leaving?”

 

“You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific there, Eita,” Kenjirou prompts, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.

 

“Like—” The words catch in Eita’s throat.

 

Even though Eita would trust Kenjirou with anything, he’s still hesitant to open up about just what’s on his mind. It seems too dumb to bother Kenjirou with. There’s more pressing shit that they need to deal with, after all, but…

 

But, he kind of _wants_ to tell Kenjirou. He wants Kenjirou to be the first person to hear his most intimate, guarded thoughts and desires, just as he was the first for so many other things.

 

Eita swallows, determined now. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m wasting my life. I feel stagnant, I feel idle… I look down at the city, and it seems so much more _alive_ than me, and I just want to jump on the bike and go. I wish I could just float away, I wish I could fly, I just—”

 

He cuts himself off, taking a shaky drag from the smouldering stub of a cigarette.

 

Kenjirou doesn’t say anything for a minute, and Eita grows more anxious with each second that passes. He’s just spilled his deepest secret, something he’s never said aloud before, and he’s uncharacteristically _terrified_ as to how Kenjirou will react.

 

“Eita…” Kenjirou murmurs, plucking the spent cigarette from his fingers and tossing it into the ashtray. “I know how you feel.”

 

“How could you possibly—”

 

“I know how you feel,” Kenjirou interrupts, fire in his eyes, “because _I feel the same way_.”

 

Eita’s shock strips any eloquence he may have had. All he can manage is a weak, “What?”

 

“Eita, I feel the same way,” Kenjirou repeats, a soft, rare, genuine smile on his face. “The noise of the city, the lights on the highway, even the damn stars. It’s like they’re calling me to go, to just say fuck it and _drive_.”

 

“Kenjirou…” Eita breathes, an impossible myriad of emotions building beneath his skin.

 

“Yeah,” Kenjirou smiles. Like always, Kenjirou doesn’t need Eita to speak to know exactly what he means.

 

And Eita grins, too. He grins more freely than he’s done since high school.

 

“Kenjirou,” he repeats, pouring everything he’s feeling into that single word.

 

“Let’s go,” Kenjirou declares softly, taking Eita’s hand in his own. “Let’s just go.”

 

“Fuck, there’s nothing I want more,” Eita admits, “But we’ve got no money, no plan…”

 

“We’ve got each other,” Kenjirou says firmly, “And you know what else we don’t have?”

 

“Hm?”

 

Kenjirou’s smile turns cheeky, confident, mischievous, _beautiful_. “Anything to lose.”

 

Eita’s heart swells in his chest. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s just— let’s just _go_. Let’s just get on the fucking motorcycle and drive.”

 

“I love you, Eita,” Kenjirou promises, “and I know that so long as we’re together, we’ll make it.”

 

Eita cups Kenjirou’s cheek, tenderly pulling him closer. Kenjirou’s warmth banishes the chill from Eita’s skin, and with the beautiful noise of life washing over them, they kiss beneath the infinite sky.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://charlie-albus.tumblr.com) | [dreamwidth](https://deducingontheroof.dreamwidth.org)


End file.
